Page 84 of Seeking Vengeance

God, do I want to kiss them.

But not now. Not when a taste of him will make me want to devour.

“You’re missing the view.” His arm around my waist descends, his hand on my hip falling to the top of my thigh.

I look back to the window, attempting to break the trance, and freeze when his fingers slowly hitch the material of my sundress, creeping higher and higher.

“Matthew…” His name is a barely heard entreaty.

“Mmm?” He keeps hitching, not stopping until the hem is raised to my crotch, the gentle breeze of filtered air sweeping against my panties. He nudges closer to me, his body turning into mine, shielding me. “Keep admiring the view,amore mio, and I’ll keep doing the same with mine.”

I shudder, unable to control my body’s reaction, helpless against the moisture dampening my sex.

“Let me play.” His fingers skim the waistband of my underwear, his entire hand sneaking beneath to cover my mound.

“Matthew.” This time it’s a plea. A gasped warning.

I shoot a frantic glance toward the cockpit. One glimpse over Bishop’s shoulder and he’d see. Everything.

“He won’t look,” the devil taunts through my headphones. “It’s just the two of us.”

His touch slides lower, grazing my clit, parting my folds.

Nerves tingle. Limbs throb.

An inner voice is aghast at what I’m doing. How tawdry I’ve become. Yet, my blood boils for more. My pulse thunders to an erotic rhythm.

“We can’t do this here.” I grasp his wrist, the hold lackluster at best.

“Why not? We did it in a hotel bathtub with a stranger present. This time nobody is watching.” A finger teases my entrance, the digit effortlessly sliding through my slickness. “I’m the only one to admire your beauty. It seems like such a waste.”

“Bishop isrightthere.” I shake my head accidentally bumping our headphones. “Do you like being watched?”

“I likeyoubeing watched. Beingwanted.” He leans tighter against my side, his fingers plunging deep.

I hold in a gasp, the air tightening my lungs.

“I enjoy the look men get when they see you,” he murmurs against my neck, slaying me. “When they admire how fucking gorgeous you are. How perfect. How compliant.”

I wish I could argue otherwise. That I’m not quick to obey or easily malleable. But in his arms, I’m all those things and more.

A puppet.

A servant.

A slave.

He curls his digits inside me, his entire body pressed to mine, his other hand sliding into my panties to find my clit. “Fuck my fingers, amore mio.”

I’m helpless to deny him.

I want to do this. For him. For me. For happiness that is usually stretched thin and far between.

I close my eyes, grinding into his touch, becoming one with pleasure.

I can’t breathe.

There’s too much… everything.

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